Now that the clatter of his own mount’s hoofs were not in his ears, Hadley was suddenly aware of a new sound cutting the night air. And it was not from the rear, but from ahead—the loud complaint of ungreased axles: a low, heavy wagon was coming slowly along the road.
“If it should be Holdness!” gasped the boy. “It sounds like his wagon.”
Around another turn in the crooked road they flashed and then the creaking of the wheels was quite near. A great covered wagon loomed up in the dusk, and Hadley uttered a cry of joy.
“Lafe! Lafe Holdness!” he shouted, while yet the wagon was some rods away.
But the driver of the squeaking vehicle heard him, and there was a flash of light as he rose up on the footboard and held the lantern above his head.
“Hi, there! slow down or ye’ll run over me!” drawled a nasal voice.
“The British are after me—I’ve got dispatches!” shouted the boy, reining in the mare beside the wagon.
“Had Morris, as I’m a livin’ sinner! What ye doin’ here?” Then the driver cocked his head and listened to the thud of hoofs behind the flying boy. “They’re arter ye close, lad—an’ Molly’s winded. Quick! there’s naught but straw in here. It’s your best chance.”
The wagon was still creaking slowly along and Holdness did not stop his team. He dropped the lantern and dodged back to the rear of the wagon. There he quickly flung aside the end curtain and then returned to the driver’s seat.
Hadley had ridden by, but the instant he saw the curtain raised he wheeled Molly about and aimed her for the end of the huge wagon. “Quick, girl! You’ve done it before,” muttered the boy, and the little mare obeyed. The driver did not bring his wagon to a stop, but it was moving very slowly. Molly had long since learned the trick expected of her, and she trotted up to the rear of the vehicle, rose in the air, and landed firmly on the straw-covered bottom.